


two peas (in a pandemonium)

by ephemeralsky



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Dumb college boys doing dumb college things, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-17 01:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13648803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralsky/pseuds/ephemeralsky
Summary: Nicky sits up straighter, legs folded underneath him on the couch, his excitement rising. “How about roller blading?”“I still have bruises from when we went last time,” Matt says sadly.“Miniature golf?” Nicky tries.“We’re banned from all three mini golf courses in the city,” Aaron states bluntly.Nicky inhales sharply, like he just realized something.“Oh no,” Aaron says.“What is it?” Matt inquires, sitting sideways on his chair at the desk to look at Nicky.“Don’t,” Aaron whispers.“Badminton,” Nicky exhales.“Hell is empty,” Aaron says, looking up at the ceiling.(or: the boys engage in sports in the middle of the night, Nicky makes crude jokes, Aaron loses a shoe, and the twins share a peaceful moment)





	two peas (in a pandemonium)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dancyon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancyon/gifts).



> This is my gift for @dancyon as part of the @aftgexchange with the prompt “the twins bonding.” I was having fun writing the scene with the twins before I realized that I needed to include some context, hence the super silly and kind of extraneous part with the Monsters + Matt in the beginning.

Like many other mishaps in Aaron’s life, this one starts with Nicky exclaiming an “Oh!” like he’s received an epiphany.

Aaron doesn’t look up from his laptop. Matt does.

“How about we play something instead of watching a movie?”

“You mean like video games?” Matt asks.

“I mean like something we don’t normally do,” Nicky says, “like rock-climbing, or paintball.”

“You don’t like rock-climbing,” Aaron reminds him without tearing his gaze away from the physiology article he’s reading, “or anything that requires physical exertion.”

“Aaron Michael,” Nicky says, scandalized, “need I remind you that I am a collegiate athlete.”

“We played paintball last year, before the girls left,” Matt recalls, fondness coloring his voice and wistfulness filling his eyes, “it was a lot of fun.”

“Yeah, it was,” Nicky agrees. “Well, minus the part where Neil single-handedly shot and eliminated most of us. Remind me to never give the kid a real gun.”

“Any other ideas?” Matt asks, slurping on his can of beer.

Aaron groans. “Why are you encouraging him?”

“How about bowling? We did that a couple of times before.”

“You know I hate bowling,” Aaron asserts, unable to help himself.

“How about laser tag?” Matt suggests.

Nicky grimaces. “Let’s not play anything that requires shooting. Neil is going to kick all of our asses.”

“Why is he suddenly included in our plans?” Aaron asks, lips twisted like he ate something bad.

“Don’t be a spoilsport,” Matt chides, playfully kicking Aaron’s shin, “it’ll be fun to have all of us if we decide to do something.”

“Even Kevin and my brother?” Aaron asks dryly.

Matt winces.

Nicky sits up straighter, legs folded underneath him on the couch, his excitement rising. “How about roller blading?”

“I still have bruises from when we went last time,” Matt says sadly.

“Miniature golf?” Nicky tries.

“We’re banned from all three mini golf courses in the city,” Aaron states bluntly.

Nicky inhales sharply, like he just realized something.

“Oh no,” Aaron says.

“What is it?” Matt inquires, sitting sideways on his chair at the desk to look at Nicky.

“Don’t,” Aaron whispers.

“Badminton,” Nicky exhales.

“Hell is empty,” Aaron says, looking up at the ceiling.

Matt sucks in a deep breath.

“Badminton,” Nicky repeats, louder this time. “We should play badminton.”

“That,” Matt says, “is a fantastic idea.”

“I know!”

“Nicky,” Aaron interrupts before it spirals out of control, “it’s 10 p.m. on a Tuesday. You have class right after morning practice tomorrow.” After a pause, he says, “And you’re drunk,” with a pointed look at the empty cans of beer at the foot of the couch.

Nicky flaps a hand around to dismiss this. “I’ll just drink some Red Bull.” After a pause, he says, “And I am _not_. I’m a little buzzed is all.”

“I have a racquet,” Matt says, drumming his fingers against the backrest of his chair, “so we’ll need a few more.”

“You’re drunk, too,” Aaron accuses.

“Just a little,” Matt admits. “Still have my eye-hand coordination in good shape, so.”

“We can ask Denton and Peter for some racquets,” Nicky proposes. “I know they play badminton for fun, as if they haven’t had enough exercise just from playing football every day.”

“Or we could borrow some from the rec center,” Aaron says listlessly, knowing that resisting them would be useless at this point.

Nicky waves a finger in the air, making a loop as he thinks. “Getting equipment is easy. The hard part is getting Neil and the others to join us.”

“They’re about to head out for their night practice, I think,” Matt supplies.

“Good luck prying Kevin and his mini-me away from the court,” Aaron mutters.

“What are we waiting for?” Nicky shouts, jumping to his feet. “We need to intercept them right now!”

He vaults over the couch – which, Aaron thinks, is completely unnecessary – and dashes out of their suite to go down the hall where his old room was.

“This will be fun to see,” Aaron says grimly, walking out the door and leaning against the wall right outside their room with Matt right behind him.

“So I’ve got this great idea –” Nicky is saying, his grin a thousand-watts bright.

“That’s what you say, but your ideas are always anything but,” Kevin interjects, arms crossed over his chest as he looms over Nicky at the doorway to his suite.

“ – and I need you and Neil and Andrew to skip tonight’s practice for it to come into fruition,” Nicky trudges on, as if Kevin hasn’t even spoken.

“Out of the question,” Kevin says with a cutting gesture.

“What exactly is your idea, Nicky?” Aaron hears Neil say from somewhere behind Kevin. He pops into view seconds later, and Kevin steps aside with an affronted look on his face.

“Badminton!” Nicky announces.

“Badminton,” Neil echoes, like it’s a foreign concept.

“ _Badminton_ ,” Kevin spits out, like it’s acid on his tongue.

“Badminton,” Nicky confirms happily. “We should all play it. We can like, form pairs and whatever, it’ll be fun!”

Neil takes on Kevin’s pose, folding his arms across his chest, but his expression is far less antagonistic. With his nose scrunched up, he says, “I don’t know if I want to.”

“Come on, Neil! Have you ever even played it? Who knows – you could find it more exciting than Exy!”

“That would be absolutely unacceptable,” Kevin says vehemently.

“I’ve never played it,” Neil allows, “but we’re going to the court right now, and I don’t see the point in playing something that wouldn’t help me get better at Exy.”

“Who says it won’t?” Nicky says. “Badminton requires precision and aim too, like Exy. And lots of arm movement. And running around. And other sweaty things.”

“Color me convinced,” Neil says wryly. He looks over his shoulder, probably addressing Andrew, and asks, “Ready to go?”

“Neil,” Nicky says, a final attempt at winning Neil over, “it’s Matt and Kevin’s last year.”

Hmm, Aaron thinks, smart move. Appealing to Neil’s sentiments regarding his team is always a clever strategy, but Nicky’s failed numerous times before in the past, so it’s really a toss-up whether it will work this time.

“So?” Neil asks.

“So,” Nicky says, “we should make lots of good memories together before they leave.”

“And you think that playing badminton together counts as a good memory,” Neil guesses flatly.

“Matt really likes badminton,” Nicky insists.

“Does he?” Kevin demands.

“Do you?” Neil asks, looking straight at Matt.

“Uh, yes,” Matt answers, jolting in surprise. “He does. I do. Love badminton, that is.”

“Are you sure this isn’t because you’re trying to procrastinate on your homework assignments?” Neil probes, zeroing in on Nicky again.

“Neil,” Nicky says dramatically, “I would never.”

“And are you sure you’re sober enough to even be doing any form of exercise?”

“The fact that you underestimate my post-alcohol faculties hurts me.”

Neil doesn’t seem impressed, but he does seem to be considering Nicky’s words about it being Matt and Kevin’s last year at Palmetto, tapping a finger against his armband.

“Neil,” Nicky says, throwing in his last ammunition, but his voice has gone a few octaves lower, his shoulders slumped, “it’s Valentine’s tomorrow.” He looks sad now, all glassy eyes and wobbly lips.

Oh, Aaron thinks, that would explain why Nicky’s been drinking all evening even though it’s a weeknight. Aaron had thought that it was because he was stressed out about his project, but he should’ve guessed that it was also because he’s been feeling lonely and sorely missing Erik.

Matt makes a noise of commiseration. Long distance relationships sound like the worst thing in the world right now.

And _shit_ , Aaron curses internally, he had almost forgotten that it’s going to be Valentine’s Day. He’ll have to remember to buy some chocolates and flowers before he meets up with Katelyn for lunch tomorrow. Hopefully he can think of something for the two of them to do together on the weekend too. Shit, how could it have slipped his mind?

“So what if it is?” Kevin is saying.

Neil is frowning slightly, head tilted to the side as he thinks about the implications of Nicky’s statement.

“Okay,” he finally says.

“ _Neil_ ,” Kevin admonishes.

“Well, I’ve never played it before,” Neil tells Kevin, “and I’m sure you’ve never, either. Have you?” he asks over his shoulder.

Aaron doesn’t know what Andrew’s answer is, but it’s obvious that it’s a no from the way Neil’s lips twitch into the phantom of a smile. He looks back at Nicky, shrugging.

Nicky perks up immediately. “Yes!” he yells, pumping his fists in the air.

“No!” Kevin says incredulously, a futile attempt to get a word in.

“Thank you, Neil!” Nicky continues. “Can I get a hug?”

Neil sighs, but says, “Sure.”

Nicky throws his arms around him, and Neil pats him on the back.

“Unbelievable,” Kevin fumes.

They all know that if Neil says okay and goes with them, Andrew will, too. And since both Neil and Andrew are going, Kevin will go, because he still has trouble being alone sometimes, and he hates being out of the loop.

“That went surprisingly well,” Matt says in quiet awe and disbelief.

Aaron grunts. “If you think train wrecks are things that go well, then sure.”

It’s a whirlwind after that – going to the football guys to borrow the racquets and the only shuttlecock they have, deciding whether they want to go to the rec center to use the indoor badminton court or not, putting up with Nicky’s _it’s a shuttle_ cock _so badminton belongs to the gays_ – and they don’t actually start playing until it’s past eleven at night.

They’re in the parking lot outside the Tower, Matt kicking the gravel and deciding that _yeah, we can just play here_ and Nicky licking his forefinger and sticking it up in the air before announcing that _yeah, there’s no wind, we can definitely play here_.  They’ve chosen a spot where there aren’t too many cars around, but Aaron doubts that it’ll do them much good.

Since Matt is the only one with badminton experience, everyone else is standing by to watch him serve.

“So you just drop the birdie and swing your racquet to hit it before it falls,” Matt says as he demonstrates. The shuttle flies over a small arc and Neil, standing a little away from Matt, captures it into his palm.

“Seems easy enough,” Neil comments.

“Yeah, and for the rest of the game you just –” Matt waves his racquet back and forth to imitate the motion of hitting the shuttle. It looks like he was telling the truth when he said that his semi-sobriety  doesn’t really affect his reflexes.

Nicky has one of the racquets, so he volunteers to go first. He starts out pretty well, serving the birdie over to Matt. When Matt returns the hit, Nicky tips his head back with his tongue peeking out of his mouth to estimate the shuttlecock’s distance from him as it spirals in a downward trajectory.

In an anticlimactic moment, it lands exactly on his forehead, bouncing off onto the ground just as he decides to finally move his racquet.

Aaron thinks he should have fought Nicky harder on this. They only have _three_ racquets, for fuck’s sake, and it’s _cold_ outside.

Nicky blinks, rubbing his forehead where he got hit, but then bursts out laughing. “Bullseye!”

“Nicky, you are bad at this,” Kevin declares with a solemn and condescending expression.

“Let me try next,” Neil says.

Matt remains in his position and Neil, who has the remaining racquet, takes Nicky’s place, standing about twenty to thirty feet away from Matt. They don’t have anything to use in substitution for a net to mark opposing sides, but nobody really seems to care about the details.  

“Here it comes,” Matt says as a heads-up.

Neil’s face indicates that he is in his laser-sharp, super serious, ultra-intense mode, and he returns the serve with an agility that is to be expected of him. Matt leaps forward and returns the hit, and Neil takes a few nimble steps backwards and manages to strike back. He misses the next one, but Matt runs over to him with a huge grin on his face and his hand raised for a high-five.

“Neil, that was great!”

“Thanks,” Neil says, reaching up to slap his palm against Matt’s.

Kevin has been frowning throughout the night, and his eyes twitch before he says, “I want to try as well.”

He takes Nicky’s racquet and replaces Neil while Matt goes back to his position.

“I’m surprised he’s even willing to try,” Aaron hears Neil say to Andrew.

“I could say the same thing with you,” Andrew replies in a bored tone. Aaron snorts.

Kevin switches his racquet from one hand to the other as if he’s testing its weight, scowling deeply as he thinks.

“I don’t like this,” he says finally. “I don’t see the point of hitting the shuttlecock back and forth between the opponents. Where is the triumph that comes along with scoring a goal? This game is inane.”

Aaron, Matt, and Neil collectively roll their eyes.

“Just fucking play, Kevin,” Neil says.

Kevin huffs. Matt serves. Kevin winds his arm back and hits the shuttle with more force than necessary. They can do nothing but watch as the birdie zips up towards the electric wires and gets tangled in them.

Nicky gasps, a hand on his chest. “The cock!”

“Jinkies,” Matt exhales.

“Zoinks,” Nicky chortles. He nudges Aaron in the ribs with his elbow, wagging his eyebrows.

Aaron drags a hand over his face. “Jeepers,” he mumbles begrudgingly.

“Did you guys rehearse that?” Neil asks with a raised eyebrow. “What do they even mean?”

“Ruh-roh,” Andrew says, indifferent, and everybody seems a little taken aback by the unexpected addition before Nicky explodes with laughter, doubling over.

Kevin stares up at the shuttlecock, lips pressed into a thin line.

“I did not intend to do that.”

“Did you just admit you made a mistake?” Matt says, delighted. “Kevin Annabeth Day admitting he made a mistake - what a day to be alive.”

“Annabeth is _not_ my middle name,” Kevin seethes. “I have told all of you plenty of times before.”

“Sure, Jan,” Matt drawls.

“My name isn’t Jan, either,” Kevin bites out.

“So what now?” Aaron cuts in, crossing his arms over his chest. “That isn’t even our birdie.”

Nicky recovers from his laughing fit, wiping his tears away. “We can just buy a new one. They’ll never know the difference.”  

“I love late-night shopping trips!” Matt chirps. “Neil, let’s go!”

“Why do I have to go?”

“Because I don’t think I should be driving right now,” Matt answers.

“You can play badminton but not drive,” Aaron says dubiously.

“Don’t drink and drive,” Matt recites. Nicky nods in sage agreement.

Neil releases a small sigh. “Alright. Who else is coming?”

“If you and Matt are going, I have to go too! You’re my two favorite people in the world at the moment and I refuse to be separated from you,” Nicky says resolutely.

“Where are we going?” Kevin asks.

“Dick’s Sporting Goods should be fine,” Matt says.

Nicky giggles. “Going to _Dick_ ’s to get some shuttle _cocks_.”

“I will go with you,” Kevin decides. “I want to see the quality of their Exy equipment.”

“Great, let’s make this a field trip,” Neil says dryly. Then he turns to Andrew.

“Andrew?” he asks quietly.

Andrew shakes his head to indicate that he’s not coming along,  and Neil nods. “I’ll take the car, okay?”

Andrew waves his hand around like he doesn’t really care.

“You’re not coming with us?” Nicky asks Aaron.

“No thanks,” Aaron responds.

“You two have fun, then,” Nicky says, glancing between his cousins. “Don’t kill each other, okay? And try not to get arrested.”

Aaron rolls his eyes. It’s something that Nicky used to say right before he leaves for work at Eden’s the first few months they lived together in Columbia, before the twins were hired as busboys.  

“I’ll be right back,” Neil tells Andrew.

“Stay out of trouble,” Andrew says with a blank expression.

Neil smirks. “No promises.”

Andrew tugs a strand of Neil’s hair, and Neil smiles a tiny, happy smile. Aaron looks away, feeling a lot like he just eavesdropped on an intimate secret.

He hasn’t felt the knick of pure anger that sears through him whenever he sees Andrew and Neil together for a while now. Instead, it’s been replaced by this weird, inexplicable sense of awkwardness. Aaron isn’t sure which one is better.

Neil leads Kevin, Matt, and Nicky towards the other side of the parking lot where the Maserati is parked beside Matt’s truck, taking the racquets with them. Andrew remains where he is, hoisting himself up onto the trunk of someone’s car before fishing out his lighter and pack of cigarettes.

Aaron looks at Andrew for a while, then leans against the car with a pocket of distance between them. When he exhales, his breath escapes in a wisp of cloud, thin like pieces of thread.

They still don’t talk much; the only times they’re truly able to hold a civil conversation is in Dobson’s office, but even then it feels like they’re pulling each other’s teeth out. But after the trial, after months of sitting on opposite ends of a couch for an hour each week, Andrew has stopped acting like Aaron doesn’t exist, and Aaron has stopped pretending that all he feels towards Andrew is resentment.

Andrew takes a deep drag of his cigarette after he’s lit it, blowing out a plume of smoke afterwards. Aaron used to hate the smell. Nowadays he doesn’t mind it, not really.

They spend some time like that, sitting in silence under the orange beam of the street lamp hanging above them.

Andrew taps the ash off the end of his stick and says, “Give me your shoe.”

Aaron thinks he’s misheard. “My what?”

Andrew doesn’t reiterate.

“Why do you need my shoes for?” Aaron asks, too baffled to even get properly indignant.

With his cigarette dangling from his lips, Andrew stabs a finger up at the electric wires without looking at either Aaron or where he’s pointing. Aaron’s gaze follows where Andrew is pointing at. He closes his eyes when he sees what he’s supposed to see.

“You’re kidding me.”

“I am not,” Andrew says, much to Aaron’s misfortune.

“Use your own shoe!” Aaron snaps.

Andrew puts his hand out, palm up in Aaron’s direction, expression unchanging.

Aaron glares at him, but try as he might, he doesn’t stand a chance against the strength of Andrew’s empty stare.

With short, angry movements, Aaron frees his right foot of his Adidas and shoves it into his brother’s hand.

“This better fucking work,” he grumbles.

Andrew tests the weight of the footwear, eyes focused on the birdie that’s caught in the electric cables. Still sitting on the trunk of the car with his legs crossed, Andrew catapults Aaron’s shoe towards the wires.

His aim isn’t far off, but instead of freeing the shuttlecock, the shoe gets caught with it, wedged between two thick cords that are strung closely together. The cables quiver and sway, but it’s not enough to shake the two items loose.

Aaron turns to Andrew furiously.

“You _asshole_ ,” he says, “I just bought that.”

Andrew seems unconcerned. “Your other one.”

Aaron glowers at him, lips twisted. “You’re insane.”

“That is news to no one.”

“There’s no way I’m giving you my other shoe after what I just saw,” Aaron argues.

“Then I guess we will leave those things up there until a storm comes.”

Aaron opens his mouth, then closes it.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath. He wrenches his left shoe off his foot and takes a few steps back to estimate how far he should throw it, squinting up at the wires.

He draws his arm back and hurls his shoe towards its counterpart; it soars over the electric cables, making a full arc, and plops onto the ground with an unceremonious thud.

Andrew takes a puff from his cigarette. Aaron squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his temples.

“This is a nightmare,” he says as he walks over to pick up his shoe. It looks miserable somehow, separated from its other half, and Aaron is suddenly overtaken by an urge to laugh. So he does, managing to stifle it into a snicker. It all seems so ridiculous - spending time alone with his twin, throwing shoes up into air in the middle of the night, ambling around in his socks on cold gravel. But it all feels oddly calming, too.  

Andrew leans back on his hands, head tipped back to stare at the electric wires. “Wait for a storm it is, then.”

“You,” Aaron says, stabbing his shoe in Andrew’s direction, “owe me a pair of new shoes.”

“You can have one of mine,” Andrew replies, aloof.

“I have bigger feet than you,” Aaron points out.

“You do not.”

“Yes, I fucking do.”

“Hmm,” Andrew responds, taking his cigarette from his mouth between two fingers to release a stream of smoke, “sounds fake.”

Aaron feels a vein popping in his head. He knows, rationally, that Andrew is just riling him up on purpose, but that doesn’t stop him from stomping over to the car and dropping his shoe in Andrew’s lap.

“Size 9.5,” Aaron states. “You wear a size 9, don’t you?”

“I do not recall,” is Andrew’s calm rebuttal as he sweeps Aaron’s shoe off his legs and onto the ground.

Aaron feels the rise of laughter bubbling up his throat; it’s only funny because he knows about Andrew’s impeccable memory. He swallows the impulse down.

“I think I have bigger hands, too.”

“Absolute lies,” Andrew accuses coolly.

Aaron holds his palm up, knocking the knuckles of his other hand against the tip of Andrew’s right military boot to urge him to put his palm against Aaron’s.

Surprisingly, he does.

Their fingers line up perfectly together, and like Aaron’s hand, Andrew’s is cold. But Aaron was wrong; Andrew has slightly thicker and longer fingers.

“Told you,” Andrew says.

“Ugh, fine, whatever.” Aaron lightly pushes Andrew’s hand away. Andrew smacks his hand back, not quite hard enough to sting.

“So rude to your elders,” Andrew remarks dispassionately.

“You’re only older by a few minutes,” Aaron retorts. After a quiet moment, he mumbles, “We didn’t even get a chance to fucking play badminton.”

Much to Aaron’s disbelief, the corner of Andrew’s lips twitch in amusement, there and gone in a blink. Aaron looks away, trying to hide a smile of his own.

He then rolls his shoulders, sighing as he leans against the car again.

“I’m kind of hungry now,” he complains in a mild tone. “You want anything to eat? We could ask them to get something for us on their way back.”

Andrew hops off the car, crushing his cigarette stub beneath his heel after he drops it on the ground.

“Neil made dinner,” he says in response to Aaron’s question. “Bouillabaisse.”

“What the hell is that?”

Andrew lifts a shoulder in the ghost of a shrug. “Some species of French cuisine. There is some left.”

That gives Aaron pause; he hadn’t expected to spend the night with Andrew, let alone have him offer Aaron some food.

“I take it that things are going smoothly for you two lovebirds,” he mocks, because poking at the scabs of a healing wound is a habit that dies hard among people like them.

Andrew shoots him an unaffected, long look.

“Would it bother you if I said that they are?”

Aaron grinds his teeth together. A year ago, Andrew probably wouldn’t have even entertained the notion of being referred to as a couple with Neil, much less utter a word to Aaron or allow him to date Katelyn.

But he has changed, and so has Aaron.  

“Maybe,” Aaron says, “maybe not.”

Andrew’s gaze remains on him for a while longer. Then he turns away, heading back to the Tower. Without a word, Aaron follows, walking beside him without any shoes on.

As he’s heating up the leftover in the microwave, he gets a text from Nicky.

 _do u need anythign frm the stoer_ , it reads.

Aaron lifts his eyes to where Andrew is in the living area, sitting on the desk that’s pressed to the wall and staring out the window. The microwave beeps.

 _I think I have everything I need_ , Aaron types.

The Bouillabaisse tastes decent.

 

**Author's Note:**

> We, as a fandom, need to talk more about the fact that Matt rooms with Nicky and Aaron for his last 2 years at PSU and how he probably spends more time with Andrew’s lot after the girls graduate…..
> 
> Also, fun fact: that whole birdie and shoe caught in the wires incident is based on a true story, so please take extra care when you're playing badminton, folks. 
> 
> my [tumblr ](http://nakasomethingkun.tumblr.com)


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